


Tattoos and Memories

by CelestialVoid



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Safe Haven (Maze Runner), Tattoos, Thominho Week, Thominho Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 17:32:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19430761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: The memories are too painful to face, especially when they’re tattooed into their skin. Minho comes up with the idea to rewrite their tattoos to rewrite the memories.





	Tattoos and Memories

Scars fade, but the tattoos never seem to.

It had been nearly a year since they escaped WICKED, but the memories of everything that had happened still haunted them.

Thomas sat on the edge of the cliff that overlooked the ocean, listening to the water lap at the rocky bluffs below.

Thomas rubbed at the back of his neck. He’s never seen it, but he knows it’s there.

 **PROPERTY OF WICKED. Group A, Subject A2 – To be killed by Group B**.

“Hey, shank,” Minho said quietly.

Thomas jumped, dropping his hand from his neck as he turned to watch Minho walk up beside him and sitting down next to him.

The older boy leant back on his hands, his eyes looking out across the rippling ocean that was lit by the rising sun.

“I woke up and you weren’t there,” Minho said quietly. He turned to look at Thomas, his eyes soft and his voice void of the usual sarcasm and teasing. “Are you okay?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Thomas said, trying to pass it off as nothing.

“Nightmares?” Minho asked.

“No. It’s nothing.”

“Nice try, shank,” Minho said firmly. “I know you better than that. What’s going, Thomas?”

Before he could stop himself, he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh,” Minho said, Thomas’ silence speaking volumes.

Thomas let a measured breath fall past his lips, his shoulders sagging as he dropped his gaze.

“I don’t want to be what they tried to make me,” Minho said after a while, his voice low enough that Thomas could barely hear it.

Thomas remembered reading the black letters that were tattooed onto Minho’s neck: **PROPERTY OF WICKED. Group A, Subject A7 – The Leader**.

“I don’t feel like a leader,” Minho said quietly, emotions swirling in the dark depths of his eyes. “No leader leads their friends to their deaths.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Thomas said. “None of it was your fault.”

“I know,” Minho replied, balling his hands into fists before unfurling them again. “But it still kind of feels like it is.”

Thomas looked at him, his heart sinking as he tried to find the words to ease his pain.

“You were a better leader than I ever was,” Minho added, before falling silent again. “You know, Sofia—” He cleared his throat and corrected himself, “Lizzy is a pretty good artist. You should see the mural she painted inside her cabin. Maybe she could, I don’t know, tattoo over it?”

“You think it’ll work?” Thomas asked.

Minho shrugged. “It’s worth a shot, right?”

Thomas thought about it for a moment before nodding.

Minho gently patted his shoulder, pushing himself back up onto his feet and stretching. “I’ll talk to her as soon as she’s up. Until then, I’m going to get breakfast started. You can join me if you want company, but if your sorry ass doesn’t eat, you’re going to be in big trouble.”

Thomas couldn’t help but smile. “I want to be alone for a little bit longer I’ll join you in a while.”

“Okay,” Minho said, gently tousling Thomas’ messy hair affectionately. He took a few steps before stopping and turning to call out to Thomas. “Hey.”

Thomas looked over his shoulder at him.

“You’re not alone,” Minho said quietly.

A soft smile payed across Thomas’ lips, reading the subtext of Minho’s words. “I know.”

“I mean it,” Minho added. “If you’re not down there when the breakfast bell rings, I’m coming back up here and kicking your ass off that cliff.”

Thomas let out a soft laugh as he watched Minho turn and walk back towards the Safe Haven.

Lizzy agreed in a heartbeat, pulling out an old notebook she had in her cabin and showing them the drawings she had done.

Thomas made an attempt to describe what he had in mind, and the sketch Lizzy drew up was better than anything he could have ever imagined.

He stripped off his shirt and sat down on her bed, turning his back to her. Lizzy sat down behind him and set to work, covering up the tattoo and blending the black ink into the new design.

When she was done, she held up a hand mirror, angling it so that Thomas could see the new tattoo: a chain of forget-me-nots, the delicate blue petals and bold yellow centres that stook out against his pale skin. Fine black lines were intertwined with the flowers, swirling and curling into cursive letters that spelt out the names of the friends they had lost; _Chuck_ , _Newt_ , _Winston_ , _Alby_.

Minho walked in a few minutes later.

“Looking good, shank,” he teased, a smirk lighting up his face as he looked from Thomas’s new tattoo to his bare chest.

Thomas pulled on his shirt as Minho stepped over to Lizzy’s side.

She held out her sketchbook for him, showing him another design she had done.

Thomas looked at him, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?” Minho said as he stripped off his shirt without hesitation or shame, and sat down. “You didn’t think you were the only one getting their stupid tattoo covered up, did you?”

Thomas’ eyes drifted to Minho’s bare chest, his gaze tracing the curves of his body and the seams of his muscles. He swallowed hard, shaking himself from his stupor. “Do you want me to stay?”

“I need you to hold my hand,” Minho jested, pouting.

Thomas rolled his eyes. He turned to Lizzy. “Give me a shout if he gives you trouble.”

“Will do,” Lizzy replied.

Minho flashed him a charming smile as he left.

Minho found him on the cliffside hours later.

“I thought you’d be up here,” he said.

Thomas glanced over his shoulder as Minho sat down next to him.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

Minho turned slightly, tugging at the back of his shirt so that the collar slid down enough that Thomas could see his new tattoo.

It was a collage of brightly-coloured flowers: purple statice blooms that symbolised remembrance, sympathy and success, and yellow, white and orange gladious flowers that symbolised strength, faithfulness, honour, and remembrance.

The black lines and lettering of the old tattoo were gone, blended in perfectly with the linework of the flowering blooms.

“For those who made it, and those who we lost along the way,” Minho said quietly, letting go of his shirt and turning back to the water—not able to look Thomas in the eye.

“It’s perfect,” Thomas said softly, letting his head rest against Minho’s shoulder.

Minho reached out, sliding his hand into Thomas’ and lacing their fingers together. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, strained as he fought back tears. “From now on, we decide who we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


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